Stars
by Fahrenheit Sidhe
Summary: What are the stars? Why did they captivate him so? (AU-ish)


It was nearing the close of the day, and the clouds were slowly drifting away from the melting sun. With night's arrival, the clouds were an inky gray not quite a charcoal. Out of the reach of the sun's tendrils, twinkling stars of silvers, golds, and faint blues let their presence be known to the young boy observing the sunset. The clouds and stars were mixed in the curiosity that pooled in intelligent green eyes. He had asked the professor what lie beyond the stars, and he had received such a mechanical answer. _"Why, Sephiroth, have you not been going to your studies? Silly child, there are other universes and planets beyond those stars."_

Sephiroth was note sure if he believed such words; there was too much gray area everywhere. _Why_ did they know so much about the stars and planets beyond, but why did they not appreciate or examine death under a microscope? What if those stars weren't astral bodies but something else entirely? What if those stars were angels, and if those stars were angels, why were they forced into such a lonesome existence so far withdrawn from all other life?

As the thought occurred to him, Sephiroth bristled as he shifted gently on the carpet and drew the blanket about him a slight bit tighter. If angels were as lonely as he is, he did not want to be one. He did not choose his existence, and he was certain those beings high, high in the sky beyond his reach had not chosen theirs either. He did not want the clouds to hide him from the light or from the sight of others, for if the light disappeared, how afraid would he be in the shadows of the universe? A shudder rippled through him this time. Perhaps it was time that he went to bed.

* * *

Years later, Sephiroth reflected upon his thoughts as a child as the intelligent eyes had long since lost their childlike innocence. The night was so similar as it had been so many moons ago, and yet, he still found the same thoughts assailing him from every angle. Those beings must be so afraid to face such an endless eternity all alone without so much as one another for company, but a new question arose. How were those beings formed?

Long silver hair flowed out behind in the gentle breeze as long legs strode towards the edge of the encampment away from the fire. He could feel the gaze of his four comrades drilling into his back, but he did not turn around; he wasn't sure he even wanted to stand so far away from the fire, yet here he was. Perhaps angels were formed by people who had suffered much in their lifetimes and had so much stolen from them. Perhaps angels were created by a higher being that selected individuals of worth. Or perhaps angels originated in the souls of the people who performed good deeds throughout their lifespan in this present time.

As he came to rest at the edge of the hill with a clear view of the sky beyond him, he felt inferior for the first time in quite a long while. Here he was beneath the canopy of the stars humbled by their enormity and their ability to see so much more than even his enhanced vision could see. Humbled, he drew his knees to his chest and let the sounds of the night wash over him.

* * *

Months had passed since he considered the sky. This time, anger burned in those green eyes, but it was an anger that he had kept to himself. It always stirred after any run-in he had with Hojo, and this mako treatment session had been no different. He had recovered faster than he had initially anticipated, but it did little to quell his anger just as these stars were not helping.

He swore quietly under his breath in the silence of his bedroom as a hazy cloud of pollution blotted out the stars from his watchful green gaze. His hands curled into fists, and he permitted his nails to cut into the palms of his hands where no one would ever see. A deep, lung-full sigh escaped his lips as the cloud of pollution finally drifted away.

As blood dripped from his palms, he vowed he would never be an angel. He would never permit some other being or entity use him in the way that he was being used. He would tear his wings and fall from heaven; to hell with all of those people and their benign kindness. He would crash and burn, but he had to crash and burn, so to most the world around him. Let them come in droves or countless armies; they will burn brightly with him, for he was not going to be alone. He was not going to be alone in his exile ever again.


End file.
